It's been three years since I spoke to him. And even then it was a brief and stilted conversation on the phone. "So… all is well with you? Great… great, me too. Yeah I'm doing well. Oh, no no I understand- you're a busy man. We'll talk soon. Bye." We didn't talk soon. We didn't see each other again either. Which occasionally amazed me to realize. I figured, as small as New York can feel sometimes, especially in our line of work, we were bound to run into each other every once in while… right?
I braced myself for the impending awkwardness when that day would come. But it never did. Until of course… it did.
Today.
Right now.
He's standing right in front of me with that far away look in his eyes. Like he sees me, recognizes me, but is far more focused on the rush of memories that seeing me brings to him than on the corporeal being staring right back at him. I bet that's how I'm looking at him now too. Remembering.
But now I'm reeling my mind in. I'm pulling myself out of my thoughts so that I can actually see him there. He looks different. But he's still beautiful. So beautiful. God. I wish I could know what he's thinking right now. Oh no, his eyes are focusing in too…. he sees me now. He really sees me.
He takes a tentative step towards me. Everything in his body language is telling me that he's unsure about this. Just as unsure and anxious and nervous as I am. And that comforts me. He tears his eyes away from mine, as if it was hurting him to look at me too long and looks down at his shoes. His long dark bangs fall forward, shielding his bright eyes, but I can still tell that they are unfocused again, that he's remembering again.
I'm starting to feel the blood gushing through my veins again, warm. I had felt myself go cold when I first noticed him. I should say something.
Do something.
Move.
Something.
Anything.
But before I can finish playing out all the possible scenarios in my mind, he suddenly looks up at me and takes on a determined stance. All I can do is stare at him, widen my eyes a bit, but remain rooted in the same place that I have been standing for the last 5… 10, 20 minutes? I have no idea; time has slowed to a stop.
His expression softens, and I swear I can feel an old wound in my heart being torn open again. He gives me that sweet half-smile that I had committed to memory during our time together and have spent the last 3 years trying to forget. He stands up straighter, takes a more sure step towards me and stands a foot away from me, looking down into my eyes, still smiling. I'd forgotten how much taller than me he is. That's a lie. I haven't forgotten anything.
He opens his mouth and utters one word, so softly that I almost can't hear it. I realize then, its my name. He said my name. And just like that, my heart-wound is healed. Or it feels like it was never hurt at all. Everything is as it should be. If only for this one moment, if only until I hear the next words out of his smiling lips, if only until I finally blink and remember that my heart is damaged after all. Three years is a long time. But maybe it wasn't long enough.
